Spectre
by JuicyWizard
Summary: Nobody really knows the origin of the wet-works liquidation specialist. Most of them don't even know their real name, or even gender. But Michael Hill certainly does have an origin, name, and gender. And he is, as said by his reputation, the most effective assassin in existence as of yet.


The Attack VTOL sped toward the city, looking for the exfil point.

Suddenly, the pilot's headset was filled with static, then a transmission came through from Callsign: Ruin. "We're pinned down, repeat, pinned down. We've taken shelter in a shipping container. Exfil ETA?"

"ETA forty seconds; hold tight, ground team." The VTOL, as estimated, reached the town in thirty-eight seconds, and found the shipping container. The pilot activated the MAGLocks, and approached the container, but then heard a high whining sound and swift beeps in his headset. The copilot realized what it was before he did, and smashed the joystick to the left. The VTOL banked so far left it almost flipped out of control, and the MAGLocks swept up a small building instead of the ground team's shipping container.

"Exfil! Where are you?"

The pilot tried to release the MAGLocks while the copilot reported, but then he was blinded by a red light. The copilot's eyes widened, and he dove from the VTOL screaming, "RPG!" just before the missile blew the front off the VTOL.

* * *

Michael Hill huddled in his house, a small metal building. He could hear the gunfire outside, but he was wise enough to stay inside, not try to escape. And so, he crouched behind an upturned table with a piece of rebar in his hands. Finally, the moment he'd been dreading came. One of the SOBs who'd been fighting outside burst in. His back was turned; he was obviously just searching for cover. Michael didn't care what side he was on. If he was attacking, good. He deserved to die. If he was defending, sorry, but he should've diverted the attack a long time ago. Get civilians out of the way first, fight the enemy second. Michael put his shoulder against the table and charged forward, using the table like a bulldozer to push the soldier back outside of the building. But, as it turned out, it wasn't a soldier. As Michael and his table neared the shape, it revealed itself to be a combat machine, a robot. It turned, saw an approaching threat, and locked itself still. Michael smashed into it, but the table shattered and the robot didn't budge. Michael stood, and before the robot could unlock itself, he stabbed through its chest with the rebar and kicked it out of his house. It powered down; apparently he hit something vital. The assault rifle clattered from its hands and it fell backward onto the ground. Michael leaned down and picked up the assault rifle, recognizing it as a KN-44. He raised the weapon, and saw a man in black fatigues sprint past with a shotgun. He fired into the man's back, and bent down to pick up the shotgun. Then, he saw a combat knife on the man's shoulder, and took that instead. Finally, he tried to get back inside his house. As soon as he set foot, though, it was torn from its foundation. He was flipped, but he still managed to catch the doorframe. He didn't know why he did; he was probably more doomed up here than fighting on the ground, but he'd just wanted cover. He looked up, and saw that an airship had picked up his house, and was now banking to the left. Suddenly, the copilot jumped out, shouting about something, and a missile blew the front off the ship. The copilot landed on Michael's house, and it fell. Michael was sure he was dead, but then the house landed on a taller building. The VTOL's engines slowed down, and it spun down and to the left. It slammed into the middle of a tall building, which buckled and butted up against the one Michael was on, like a bridge. Michael climbed up to the top of his house and found the copilot of the VTOL.

"Are you hurt? Can you fight?" Michael yelled over the din of war.

"I-" the copilot tried to stand, then fell and stood again. "I can fight. Let's go." The man pulled out a pistol and slid from Michael's house. Michael dropped after him, and ran down the broken building like he was surfing. The dust made this more like skating than running, though. Just as Michael was about to reach the end and fall off the building, the copilot tackled him into a window. Just as he fell, a bullet flew over where he just was. Michael looked up in shock, and turned to the copilot.

"Thank you," he said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Krystof. And you?"

"Michael. Let's go." Michael looked around. Being in a sideways building was confusing. He stood on a wall, the window above him. The floor was to his left, the ceiling his right, and another wall behind him. He stood just over a hallway, which dropped several meters to another window. On the other side of it was a staircase, which was, luckily, situated in such a fashion it could still be used now. Michael leaped over the hallway, just barely landing on the other side. He walked a few steps, jumped to the staircase, and walked up it. He thought for a moment, and knew that when the building was upright, the staircase was going down. He reached the top... no, bottom, and turned to his right. There was another hallway, but the other direction, such that he could walk along it. At the end was a window. Michael ran to the window, and looked out.

"Krys! Something's wrong!"

Outside the window, the world was tipping. Michael saw a building, but it seemed to be moving downward. The sky was becoming more and more visible. Then, Michael realized that the building was rolling, falling to the ground. He would fall to the staircase again if he didn't hold on. But just as he fell away from the window, the building fell and spun off its base. Gravity changed so much that Michael found himself falling around in very small circles, until, finally, the building landed. He found himself on the wall again, but the opposite one. He'd fallen through a doorway when he landed, and he was apparently in some kind of utility closet. There were no windows here. The nearest window, the one in the hallway, was several meters above him.

"Krys! Krystof!" Michael yelled.

"Yeah? Michael?" Krys's voice came to him from the hallway.

"I'm stuck in this closet thing, and I can't get to a window!"

"Look around for a rope! You're in a supply closet, right?"

Michael looked around, and, lucky him, found a light cable. He threw one end up, and Krys's hand dashed out and caught it. "Ready?" Michael asked. Krys flashed him a thumbs up, and pulled the cable a bit. Michael started to climb, using the wall for support, and climbed through the doorway. Krys let the cable fall back into the closet, and they both climbed over the doorway. Finally, Michael looked out the window. The ground was far below, but broken windows were lined up like a ladder. Michael and Krys climbed to the ground, and turned. The battle had moved this way, just their luck, and they found themselves in the middle of it. Someone fired a shotgun, and a green-clad soldier was thrown into the building next to Michael. He stepped forward, stabbing some black-clad soldiers, then rolled behind a barricade. Several American soldiers backed against the building, firing into the crowd of robots and black-clad soldiers. Suddenly, five people dropped in from the rooftops. These were the super soldiers Michael had seen on the news. He recognized all of them, and knew their callsigns. Ruin, his least favorite. He had a beard and short hair, and wore no headgear. His arms and chest were robotic, and he held massive yellow spikes in his hands. A KN-44 was on his back, and a pistol on his leg. He wore all grey. The second one to drop in was more to Michael's taste: Outrider. She had only robotic legs, nothing else. Even so, they were mostly covered by her body-wide arctic camouflage. In her hands was a large compound bow, on her back a sniper rifle. Next was Prophet. His arms and legs were robotic, and he was dressed in swaths and scarfs and desert camouflage. When he landed, Michael saw that his upper head and eyes were also robotic. He held what appeared to be a rail gun, but it was firing electricity. Next was Reaper, a prototype robot with a massive minigun instead of a right arm. Lastly, someone dropped in that Michael knew he hated, almost as much as Ruin. It was Battery. She had robotic arms, and held a grenade launcher. It seemed she'd misplaced her other weapons, because she was firing liberally and not pulling out anything else. Ruin shouted, dropped to the ground, and slammed his spikes into a black robot. An explosion ensued, dropping a large portion of the enemy. Outrider fired arrow after arrow, and Michael marveled at them. Some exploded, some exploded in fire, some exploded in poisonous gas, some exploded in ice and froze people. Prophet fired arcs of electricity, focusing mostly on the robots. They shorted out and powered off. Reaper shredded everyone with his minigun, and Battery was picking up whoever he left behind with grenades.

Krys fired at people, but they were falling faster than his bullets were flying. Michael charged forward, slicing people down before they could raise weapons. Anyone who was too far away to kill but decided to shoot at him were killed by the super soldiers. Michael thought he was doing pretty well for an average human, but then he cut someone down who'd been about to throw a grenade. It fell to the ground, and Michael stooped to pick it up. As he raised it, though, he noticed the absence of a pin. His reflexes told him to drop the grenade like a hot pan, but that was a bad idea. He tried to kick it, slipped, and watched as everything slowed down and the grenade detonated less than half a meter away from his foot.

Then, everything went Michael's favorite color: black.

* * *

Michael woke up. He was in a white room, in a white bed with white sheets. Great. the opposite of what he would have wanted. but then he noticed something. He was a super soldier. But while many of his now peers had full robotic limbs, he was only mechanical in bits and pieces. He was made of black metal from the knees down, and his feet looked like ninja shoes, with the big toe separated. He had minuscule spikes on the bottom of his feet, for gripping things, he assumed. His forearms and hands were robotic as well, and his forearms had some sort of weapon on them. He activated them, he didn't know how, and watched as twin white-hot razor-sharp blades sprouted from each of his arms and extended past his hands. He got out of bed, feeling better than he ever had as a human, and found clothes and body armor on a chair. He put it all on, and saw that he looked like a 100% battle-ready modern ninja. He found no weapons besides the black combat knife sheathed at his shoulder and the... rippers on his arms. He was covered in black kevlar and metal, and wore a visored helmet that connected seamlessly to the chest armor via a leather and kevlar neckpiece.

Thusly equipped, he moved from the hospital room. Immediately, he found himself in a covert ops base, set up so that the military equipment could be easily hidden, and the base would appear to be a simple middle-eastern apartment. In the center lounged a man, all dressed up in a fire-proof orange suit, which looked just like a HAZMAT suit. From his left hand hung a large orange rifle with cans of isobutane on the top and a large can of propane on the bottom. On the man's left shoulder was stitched _Firebreak_ in black, and etched into the side of the rifle was _Purifier._ Michael drew his knife, and decided to name himself as well. He etched _Ripper_ onto the side of his left forearm weapon, and thought for a moment. He could be called Phantom, or Ghost, or Shade, or Shadow, or... Michael smiled. Or Spectre. He took his left shoulder plate off and etched Spectre into it, then replaced it on his arm.

"Firebreak!" Spectre called.

Firebreak looked up after a second. "And who're you?"

"I'm Spectre. Just got recruited," Spectre said, then added an afterthought. "quite against my will."

Firebreak laughed and scratched his head. "So... you're Michael, huh?"

Now with the information that this Firebreak character knew who he was, Spectre grew very suspicious. Before Firebreak could react, Spectre had dove, rolled, drew his knife, and landed on top of him. Now, the only thing between their visors was a void-black, razor-sharp combat knife. "Who are you really, and how do you know who I am?"

Underneath the stone faced exterior, though, Spectre was just amazed at his new abilities. Normally he wouldn't be able to do any such thing to a super soldier. He reached up to take off Firebreak's cowl, but he was tackled from the side before he could. As the survivor of a war-zone, Michael had been forced to learn a large degree of self-defense. As a super-soldier who was once that survivor of a war-zone, Spectre flipped, spun, kicked, and landed on his attacker. Of course, it was Ruin. Spectre was poised in such a fashion that he could drop, and his shin would crush Ruin's throat. And somehow, his right hand still held a knife at Firebreak's throat. As he looked up, he saw Battery charging forward, casting her grenade launcher to one side. Spectre rolled again, and Firebreak and Ruin had switched places. Now Firebreak was pinned under Spectre's shin, and Ruin had a knife at his throat. Battery was under Spectre now, with her head turned nearly 90 degrees to the side. A simple flick of three limbs, and Spectre could kill all three of them.

Ruin picked up something out from under him, and Spectre realized it was one of his gravity spikes. "You let me go," he said, "or we all die."

"You twitch, Ruin, and only three of the four of us drop."

Ruin snarled, then plastered a look of defeat over his defiant one and tossed his gravity spike to the side. Firebreak went for the more diplomatic approach. "Michael! Stop! It's Krystof! It's me!"

Spectre kicked Firebreak's visor off, and saw that it was indeed Krystof, the VTOL copilot who'd saved his life three times.

"I brought you in. Without installing a DNI and physical enhancements, you were going to die."

Four times. "Thank you. But why should I spare these two?"

"Because we need them."

"Please. We don't need any more explosions, and certainly we don't need any more foolhardy soldiers charging out and getting us all killed."

"No, but we do need chaos to allow for my fire and your discreet massacres."

Spectre smiled. Firebreak had never been on a mission with him besides their mad dash for survival, and here he knew exactly what to say, exactly what Spectre would like. "Fine." Spectre kicked up onto his knee to let Firebreak out, sheathed his combat knife to let Ruin out, and hauled Battery to her feet. Finally, he rolled to his own feet and activated his Rippers. It seemed that Ruin, Battery, and Firebreak all had the same idea. Ruin had his Spikes charged and raised, Battery was a ways back with her launcher pointed at Spectre's feet, and Firebreak was at Spectre's shoulder with his Purifier pointed at Battery.

"STAND DOWN!" The order was given with such volume and command that every one of the super soldiers dropped or deactivated their weapons. Out of the shadows came Prophet, who held his Tempest casually in one hand, and an RK5 pistol in the other. "I didn't join this team to watch the rookies squabble. Those are deadly weapons you were given, now treat them with care, and for God's sake point them at the right people!"

Ruin and Battery shuffled their feet awkwardly, and Firebreak stooped to pick up his cowl to cover his face with the visor. Spectre, completely unabashed, unrepentant, and unafraid of this Prophet, pretended to inspect his nails. They were, of course, hidden under leather gloves, not to mention nonexistent on his cybernetic hands. Prophet didn't appreciate the arrogant gesture, and so shot Spectre in the thigh with the RK5. As three 9mm bullets tore through his flesh, Spectre rolled forward and came up with his knife. Prophet's face turned to shock and absolute agony as the razor-sharp knife blade twisted further and further toward his heart. Spectre was vaguely aware of the other three specialists trying to pull him away, but he didn't budge. The Tempest and RK5 clattered from Prophet's hands, and Spectre finally tore the knife out of his flesh and kicked him into a bench. With that, Spectre grabbed the Tempest and turned with both Tempest and Ripper up.

"Don't anybody move. Brief me on the mission, and let's get going."

"But..." Firebreak started. "Why are you so angry?"

"Let me tell you, shall I? First, I was trying to relax in my home. Then, these rookies drew battle robots and DRM soldiers into it, leaving me for a mad dash just to survive. Then, because they couldn't direct the attack away from civilians, I had to step in and massacre the soldiers myself. When they couldn't deal with one simple man throwing one simple grenade, I, untrained as I was at the time, didn't deal with it in time and was blown to pieces. Then, against my will, I was turned into a cyborg and given deadly weapons I had every intention of using. Then, when I tried to defend myself from a strange man who knew my real identity and two foolhardy soldiers taking it out of context, I get shot in the leg by some cyborg nuthouse with a power high. I think I have a right to stab someone. Now, brief me, Ruin."

"Actually, you're supposed to be briefed by command. We were told that this was your upbringing mission, and we were to support you on it."

* * *

Spectre crouched on the rise, looking down over the scene. His orders were to eliminate a CDP Captain, and he planned to do so with surgical precision. Though... he didn't know how he would do it. This command facility was supposed to be impenetrable, the Captain untouchable. So how could he do it? He had been told to voice checkpoints over a recording device so that SQUADCOM could analyze it later and decide whether he was ready for further missions. So, he activated the device and deactivated his external speakers.

"Things are very rarely entirely as they seem. The key is to grasp the bigger picture. To understand the larger forces in play. Work out what their goals and endgames might be. Only when you understand this does the pattern and larger picture emerge. For example, liquidation order 821-16. High-ranking CDP military officer. Commander of a lead rapid deployment unit. Likes to get his hands dirty only when high kill-counts are statistically likely. When non-operational, client remains in central command facility. Well-defended... hard to infiltrate... untouchable. My third party was calling for target elimination at the earliest opportunity. How should I go about achieving my kill?"

And so Spectre thought.

/Ruin\

Ruin raised his KN-44, shooting down three CDP soldiers. Battery fired her Haymaker-12 shotgun next to him, dropping the combat robots who'd moved in close. Firebreak moved behind them, emptying magazine after magazine from his Weevil SMG. Finally, the AO was empty of hostiles, and the three specialists melted back into their leafy cover.

"Ruin." the comms activated, and Ruin heard the SQUADCOM speak. "Push forward, we need a diversion from the enemy CENTCOM."

"Sir?"

"That's an order, Ruin."

Ruin motioned to Firebreak and Battery, and they moved up. A large squadron of CDP soldiers moved to intercept them, and they were forced to ground. Firebreak provided cover while Battery moved within shotgun-range, and Ruin focused fire on the larger threats such as assault robots, snipers, and artillery. Ruin tossed a frag grenade over his cover and dropped four robots, just as Battery was blown back by an RPG. She managed to roll to her feet, but Ruin saw that her left arm had been shredded, and the cybernetic auto-repair systems weren't working as quickly as anyone would have liked. She fired twice, but she wasn't too accurate using just one hand. She finally became frustrated, threw her Haymaker, and drew her RK5. Bursts of 9mm fire tore through infantry, but it didn't quite do the job against the assault robots. One cast aside its rifle and charged forward, tackling Battery to the ground. Her arm was repaired now, but her head hit the cement and she was too stunned to even hold on to the pistol, let alone fight the robot. Ruin charged forward, firing into the side of the robot. It didn't deactivate, so he hurled his rifle and tackled the robot. When they skidded to a stop, Ruin used his robotic arms to crush the robot's head. Battery stood back up and took her launcher from her back, killing more of the soldiers.

The future was bleak.

/Spectre\

Spectre dropped into the CENTCOM building, still voicing his thoughts inside his helmet, none of which could be heard outside.

"Infiltration successful, game set. Building is crawling with hostiles, one has to be the Captain. Everything's going exactly as planned. I'll check back when the order is complete."

He crept through a doorway, and stabbed two men. As they fell, he dragged their bodies into the shadows and moved to the next room. There, he saw his target. The CDP Captain was stepping from the VTOL transport that he'd been deployed on. Of course, he wouldn't resist to take a hand if it meant the deaths of three powerful Black Ops specialists. On Spectre's belt hung two smoke grenades and two combat axes, and he pulled an axe now. As his arm came back to throw it, an explosion, a yell, and another explosion sounded outside. He looked out a window and saw Ruin and Battery flying through the base. Behind them was Firebreak, shaking his head in disgust at their actions. Spectre could relate. Chaos could serve him, but there certainly was a limit. Even so, the Captain saw the specialists as well and tried to move to a better command and combat position. In doing so, he ran towards Spectre, and impaled himself on a combat knife. Spectre sheathed the knife and threw the axe, dropping a soldier. Then he threw a smoke grenade into the center of the room and charged through the window. Finally, he climbed a low cliff and laid low until the chaos died down.

/Ruin\

Firebreak shot the last man in the head, and Ruin slumped into a wall.

"All due respect, sir," he said over SQUADCOM, "I gotta ask why that action was authorized. Gamma and Epsilon have been quiet for weeks. We've been on the back foot of Charlie and Delta fighting for every scrap of ground. Moving our forces like that cost us territory we've already paid a high price for. Sir, permission to speak freely." Ruin didn't wait for the permission he asked for, though. "Might want to consider a review of the intelligence. Seems like we haven't got one clue what we were going after out there. Felt like a show of force we didn't have to make. Don't appreciate being sent on wild goose chases and nearly getting me and my own killed, sir. Hope it was worth it, sir."

/Spectre\

Spectre recorded his final report.

"Convincing my contacts at WA CENTCOM that my client was at HVT was easy. They agreed that a direct assault on targets in sectors Gamma and Epsilon would draw him out at an acceptable level of loss. Of course, they were unaware that I had arranged for their D.E.A.D systems to malfunction. I suspected that a sudden appearance of a hole in the WA Defense Grid would tip the statistical odds of a deployment of my client in the AO. Everything was proceeding on plan, until callsigns Ruin and Battery led half a CDP Battle Group to the location that I was monitoring my targets from. Despite that minor inconvenience, I was able to proceed, engaging my client as he disembarked his transport, and liquidated as specified. That momentary look of stupid surprise on his face as he realized he was already dead was... priceless."

Finally, he stood and turned around, only to find Ruin directly behind him. And Spectre realized he'd forgotten he'd turned on his external speakers.

"That whole setup was to smoke out one CDP asshole? And you couldn't come up with anything better than use those guys as bait?" Spectre cocked his head at Ruin's attitude. "Here, I got a better plan for you. Take out their D.E.A.D. and flatten the whole base with standoff. One of these days, you're gonna get what's coming to you, buddy. I just hope I'm there to see it."

Spectre smiled beneath his visor. "Was that a threat? Stupid. And naive. This isn't a brawl. This... this is chess. You're pawns, nothing more. You set up the play, and leave your betters-knights, bishops, queens and rooks- to strike tactically, surgically. You set the stage doing whatever it takes to make the story convincing, getting hundreds of lies if must be. Then, at the right time, with a single flick of my wrist, thousands can be saved."

Ruin scoffed and turned away, leaving Firebreak to take his place.

"Chess, huh?"

Spectre sensed the amusement in Firebreak's voice. "Of course. Battle isn't force. Battle is strategy. And some of us have to be able to make the difficult choices, and make the final cut. Others," Spectre looked pointedly at Ruin and Battery, "need to learn their place, as the pawns. The distraction. The shield. then there are those," Spectre nodded to Firebreak, "who move in from behind the distraction with a setup of their own. The second tier tacticians, if you will. The ones who, under the cover of the initial shield, create the very circumstances needed for the final move to be made. They are the rooks, knights, and bishops. Finally, the most powerful piece moves in and claims victory: the queen."

"And I suppose that's you?"

"None other. Let's get to exfil." Spectre ran past Firebreak, then dove from the cliff into the back of a CDP truck. Firebreak landed next to him, and Spectre glanced his way. he deactivated his external speakers but kept the comm line open.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know what we're doing, but I trust you do. Just tell me what needs to happen."

"Okay. Exfil is just a ways down the road. The men in this truck have just seen the battle site, and they're on the way to the VTOL pad to check that our target got away. Regardless of what they find, they'll see our VTOL on the way to pick us up, and maybe the other two specialists. We need to make sure that this truck and the captain's VTOL are clear of the pad, to give us the largest window possible to get away. Your job is to blow the tank on the truck when it's just next to the VTOL. Here." Spectre pulled out a roll of thick, heat-conductive wire, and activated his Ripper. Using the white-hot blades, he cut a hole into the bed of the truck and through to the gas tank. Finally, he used the Ripper to make two holes in the tank. He stuck the bent end of the wire in one hole and pulled it out the other, then pulled the length of wire through the gasoline, and left one end crimped in the tank.

"That's saturated. Right." Spectre sheathed his Ripper, and looked out over the top of the truck. "Now. I know you have a light. Your cigar lighter, heat emitters, Purifier, whatever. It's why you're called Firebreak. When I tell you, jump out with the end of the wire, wait for the truck to be in position, and light the wire."

"Where will you be?"

"I'll be in the VTOL. Need to light the engines just as the truck blows, to ensure it goes over the edge. Now!"

"Wait-"

Spectre shoved the end of the wire into Firebreak's belt, pushed him out of the bed of the truck, and broke through the back window of the cab. The two men inside turned back, and Spectre stabbed them both. The truck, surprisingly enough, didn't go off course. It sped toward the VTOL, and Spectre counted.

One...

The truck began to slow down.

Two...

It continued to slow down, and the roll of wire unwound rapidly.

Three...

The truck slowed just enough that it wouldn't smack into the VTOL yet, but would when Spectre needed it to.

Four...

Spectre leaped onto the cab, then toward the VTOL.

Five...

Spectre crashed through the VTOL windows, smashed the ignition switch, and raised it slightly.

Six...

A spark flashed in the distance.

Seven...

Another spark, and a small flash of fire beneath it.

Eight...

The wire ignited, and the flames sped along its length.

Nine...

Spectre raised the VTOL quite a bit more, and dove out of the cockpit, off the VTOL pad and over the cliff it was situated on.

"TEN!" Spectre yelled aloud, turning over. As he fell, he saw the VTOL lower down to just the right height, while the fire line reached the truck and blew it to smithereens. The blast pushed and ignited the VTOL, and it plummeted along with Spectre. A few more seconds passed, and the VTOL exploded. Finally, Spectre flipped, activated both Rippers, and plunged them into the cliff face. Several kliks out, the Black Ops VTOL approached. Spectre used his enhanced strength to climb Ripper over Ripper up the cliff at very high speeds. Just as he flung himself over the edge of the cliff, he saw Ruin, Battery, and Firebreak slow to a stop a the VTOL platform while the exfil craft landed softly. The other three specialists didn't see him, and Ruin patted the side of the VTOL as he boarded. The aircraft took off, and the passenger door started to close. Spectre sprinted toward it, jumped as high as he could, and stabbed his combat knife into the now-closed door. The VTOL bucked back with the added sudden weight, then got control and sped toward base with Spectre still hanging from the rear. And there he hung the whole way back, allowing his knife to slip free only when he was a few meters from the top of their base.

There, he sat on an ammunition crate, put his ankle on his knee, and began to sharpen and inspect his knife's edge. The other three specialists shuffled from the VTOL, and all stopped when they saw Spectre.

Firebreak started speaking first, and Ruin and Battery's voices added to his later.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"How'd you survive that fall?"

"How did you get back before us?"

Spectre couldn't tell who had said what, but their collective surprise was satisfying. He'd killed his target, put Ruin in his place, and impressed the team he'd just joined. Needless to say, this wouldn't be his last mission.


End file.
